Demos' heart thundered violently with every step the man took toward him.
It wasn't just fear anymore.
It was noise.
A relentless drumming inside his chest that seemed loud enough to echo across the entire clearing.
Thump… thump… thump…
Even the man paused slightly, tilting his head as if he could truly hear it.
Then he laughed.
A deep, ugly sound that rolled through the forest like broken thunder.
"Ahahahaha!" the man roared, pointing straight at Demos. "Brothers! Look at him!"
His voice carried through the clearing, sharp and mocking.
"He's so terrified, his heart is beating like a warrior in the middle of battle!"
The other four men turned immediately.
Their eyes locked onto Demos.
Scarred faces. Hardened jaws. Eyes that had seen too many deaths to feel mercy anymore.
And now—those eyes lit up with amusement.
They began chuckling.
Snickering.
Like predators enjoying the panic of a trapped animal.
Demos didn't move.
But his fists tightened.
The leader among them stepped forward.
He was larger than the rest.
Not just in size—but in presence.
Every step he took made the ground feel heavier, like the earth was reacting to him.
His beard was thick and untrimmed, his face carved with old battle scars that told stories of violence and survival.
He stopped a few steps from Demos.
Then smiled.
"Enough laughter," the leader said in a deep, commanding voice. "We have a feast to prepare."
He tilted his head toward Demos.
"And our guest… is the main course."
The other men cheered.
Some cracked their knuckles.
Others drew closer slowly, like wolves circling something injured but still dangerous.
Demos felt it.
The closing space.
The pressure.
The inevitability of violence.
But instead of stepping back—
He stepped forward.
Just one step.
The clearing went silent again.
His voice cut through it.
"Which of you is the leader?"
The men paused.
Demos lifted his chin slightly.
"I challenge you."
A beat.
"If I defeat you… I become the new leader."
A short silence followed.
Then—
The leader laughed again.
But this time it was slower.
More amused.
More dangerous.
"You?" the man said, narrowing his eyes. "You think you can challenge me?"
He cracked his knuckles.
A loud CRACK echoed.
"I am Gorthok."
The name alone carried weight.
"I am the greatest warrior of this tribe."
The air shifted instantly.
Demos didn't flinch.
Instead, after being freed from the vines restraining him, he straightened his back fully.
Blood still clung to his skin.
Dirt marked his clothes.
But his eyes—
His eyes were steady.
"I am Demos," he said firmly.
Then louder.
"A Spartan warrior."
That name made Gorthok pause.
Just for a moment.
"Spartan?" he repeated slowly, tasting the word like something foreign. "I have never heard of such a thing."
He leaned slightly forward.
"What is this Sparta you speak of?"
Demos' lips curled into a faint smile.
Not fear.
Not hesitation.
Confidence.
"Sparta is the birthplace of the greatest warriors to ever live."
A flicker of interest crossed Gorthok's face.
Then it hardened again.
"I will enjoy watching you eat those words," he said coldly.
Demos nodded once.
"I will not disappoint you."
The distance between them became meaningless.
The air itself felt tight.
Heavy.
Like the world was waiting for impact.
They circled each other slowly.
Step.
Step.
Step.
Every movement calculated.
Every breath controlled.
Then—
Gorthok moved first.
A sudden explosion of force.
"RAAAH!"
His foot slammed into the ground so hard the dirt cracked outward.
A full charge.
A bull rushing a target with no hesitation.
Demos reacted instantly.
He sidestepped at the very last second.
Gorthok's massive fist swept past him like a hammer of destruction, missing by inches.
The wind pressure alone pushed Demos' hair back.
But Demos didn't retreat.
He pivoted.
And struck.
A sharp right hook snapped into Gorthok's ribs.
THUD.
The sound was deep.
Dense.
Like hitting stone wrapped in muscle.
Gorthok grunted—but didn't fall.
Instead, he twisted and threw a brutal backhand.
Demos ducked.
The fist cut the air above him.
WHOOOSH.
Demos countered immediately.
Left jab.
Right jab.
Then a sudden kick.
CRACK!
The kick landed clean on Gorthok's side.
For the first time—
Gorthok stepped back half a step.
The watching men murmured.
But Gorthok's expression darkened.
He wasn't smiling anymore.
He attacked again.
Faster.
He blocked Demos' next punch with his forearm, the impact shaking both their arms.
Then—
BAM!
An elbow slammed into Demos' thigh.
Pain shot through his leg instantly.
Before Demos could adjust—
Gorthok drove a fist into his ribs.
CRACK!
Demos felt air leave his lungs.
An uppercut followed immediately, snapping his head back.
Blood sprayed lightly into the air.
The two collided.
Falling into a brutal grapple.
They crashed to the ground, rolling violently through dirt and stone.
Elbows flew.
Knees collided.
Fists smashed into anything they could reach.
Gorthok drove his knee into Demos' stomach.
Demos answered with a headbutt.
THUD!
Blood burst from both their brows.
They separated slightly.
Demos roared and swung a heavy right hook.
CRACK!
Gorthok's jaw snapped sideways.
Blood sprayed.
But he didn't fall.
He grabbed Demos.
And slammed him down.
Dust exploded outward.
Gorthok mounted him, crushing him under raw weight.
His fists came down like falling stones.
BAM! BAM! BAM!
Demos raised his arms desperately, blocking what he could.
But the pressure was overwhelming.
Air was leaving his lungs.
Vision blurring.
Still—
He refused.
With a roar, Demos twisted his body violently.
Using pure desperation, he rolled Gorthok off him.
Both crashed apart, gasping.
Silence.
Just heavy breathing.
Blood dripping into the dirt.
Demos pushed himself up slowly.
Gorthok followed.
Both stood again.
Wounded.
Shaking.
But still alive.
Gorthok's face was dripping blood now, claw marks deeper and more visible.
Demos spat blood to the side.
Neither looked away.
Then—
Gorthok charged again.
This time, his attacks were wild.
Faster.
He struck Demos' shoulder.
Ribs.
Face.
A brutal combo that sent Demos staggering.
One final blow—
CRACK!
Demos collapsed to one knee.
He spat broken teeth into the dirt.
His vision blurred.
His body screamed.
But something inside him refused to stop.
He forced himself up.
Slow.
Unsteady.
Then—
He moved.
A sudden burst.
He drove a punch into Gorthok's throat.
Then another into his temple.
Then another into his jaw.
CRACK!
Gorthok staggered.
Demos didn't stop.
He grabbed Gorthok's head.
And drove his thumbs into his eyes.
Gorthok screamed.
A raw, animalistic sound.
Blood poured.
Demos stepped back and swung one final punch.
BOOM!
Gorthok collapsed.
Motionless.
The clearing went silent.
Demos stood over him.
Breathing heavily.
Covered in blood.
"I'm the victor," he said hoarsely.
The tribe watched.
Then slowly… they nodded.
Acceptance.
Demos had won.
But his body gave out immediately after.
He collapsed forward into darkness.
They carried him.
And Gorthok.
Into a nearby cave.
The air inside was thick.
Heavy with sweat, blood, and smoke.
They laid both men down.
A healer stepped forward.
Akira.
She knelt beside Demos first.
Carefully cleaning wounds.
Applying herbs.
Binding broken flesh.
Then she moved to Gorthok.
Silence filled the cave.
Whispers began among the tribe.
"What do we do with him?"
"He lost."
"He brought shame."
"Banish him."
But Akira shook her head.
"No."
Her voice was calm.
But firm.
"He is still one of us."
"We do not abandon our own."
The tribe fell silent.
Then slowly… they agreed.
Three Days Later
Demos' eyes opened.
A faint glow of light filtered into the cave.
His body felt strange.
Heavier… yet lighter at the same time.
Then—
A system notification appeared in front of him.
[System Task Complete]
He stared at it.
Confused.
Before he could react further—
A sound came from his left.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Approaching.
Demos turned his head slightly.
His eyes narrowed.
Someone was walking toward him.
And he was still inside the cave.
Still healing.
And something about the presence approaching…
Was not normal.